


A Force of Nature

by KatieComma, Orianess



Series: No One Dies Verse [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur doesn't die, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Last Episode Fix It, Love Confessions, M/M, Merlin Is An Absolute Badass, so much magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26452690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orianess/pseuds/Orianess
Summary: Arthur doesn't die.Merlin won't let him.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: No One Dies Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921594
Comments: 14
Kudos: 242





	A Force of Nature

**Author's Note:**

> And more fix it for the No One Dies Verse!
> 
> Orianess wrote most of this one.

“You’re not going to say goodbye!” Merlin hisses as he tucks Arthur closer to his chest. His exhausted king lets out a humorless huff and even though he doesn’t say it directly, the farewell is clear.

With the scant air left in his lungs, Arthur gives him his gratitude. He thanks Merlin for helping him build Camelot, for all that he’s done and he reaches up to hold the back his head as if that will keep him from slipping into death’s hands. 

Merlin screams for Arthur when his eyes slip closed. They do not open again, no matter how he cries. 

With shaking hands, he tries to drag Arthur closer to the shores of Avalon but he only makes it a few steps before he collapses and cries against his king’s shoulder. All of the strength to fight on is as quiet as Arthur’s now still heart.

His grief is an unending flood that spills from his throat but it isn’t only grief. There’s fury too. Hot, wild, vast as the sky above. 

How dare Fate take Arthur from him now. The battle is won, peace can finally reign with evil vanquished but the Once and Future King lies dead in his arms. To fail this close to being free to make things right in the world. It’s not a matter of unfair, it’s impossibly cruel.

That’s just not good enough. 

He won’t allow this.

It’s strange but the moment he decides that this is one injustice he refuses to accept as just a part of the world’s indifference, something around him changes. No, that’s not right either. _He_ changes. Or perhaps shifts is more the word because he’s still Merlin but he’s not only Merlin. 

He’s not just a warlock. He’s not just a holder for magic. He _is_ Magic. 

Magic pulses through him like a pounding drum and his view of the world becomes so much bigger. So much clearer. 

He can see the Veil of the world in perfect clarity, all woven together with strands of existence. Earth and water and little stars of life dotting a complex tapestry of balanced dark and light. Time is threaded between the weavings and he knows exactly what he must do.

With hands of cosmic fire and a mind clearer than holy water, he reaches into the void of the world and grasps time like the reigns of an unruly stallion. It pulls at him with violence, the foundation of his grasp on reality shakes and he swears thunder roars from his chest but he refuses to let go.

Magic belongs to him and he will not be stopped.

He holds fast to the threads of the Veil and reaches deep for a tiny grain of sand in the expanse of Beyond. It could be a moment or a thousand years; he walks between Time and the World and After itself until he finds it. A brilliant golden bead of light so small compared to everything he can see but he would know Arthur’s soul anywhere.

He tugs and pulls and shifts till the bead rests in his hand and he puts it back where it belongs on the mortal side of the Veil. 

But he’s not finished yet.

Magic is his to command and it will correct injustice. Time will restore the beating of Arthur’s heart. Water and Earth will give him what he needs so that Magic can undo the very spell work of cursed blades and incurable wounds.

He works without end. His skin feels shredded and boiled and every pain that has ever been in the world is burrowed in his bones but he will not stop.

Fate has no say against his will today.

Arthur’s heart twitches to life under his hands and he feels the very fire of life rekindling. Air returns into empty lungs and it is a spring wind off the mountain. The wound knits itself together as if it had never existed and damage is but an almost forgotten memory that smells of lightning on a distant storm. Echoing somewhere in the vastness, a voice that is both forever his sanity and distraction reaches him.

“Merlin? What have you done?” 

Merlin only manages to meet Arthur’s wide and frightened eyes for a moment before he realizes he can let go of his hold on the impossible. As soon as he releases it, his body crumples and Arthur’s arms catch him before he hits the ground completely. 

“Merlin! Stay with me!” Arthur commands, and it would be funny if he wasn’t so tired. Still giving him orders, of course.

I am with you, he wants to say. He wants to tell him that everything will be fine now. He wants to tell him that he couldn’t let him go, that Arthur had to live and so he turned the rules of fate and death backward to undo what had happened. But he’s too tired for all of that suddenly and he reaches up to touch Arthur’s hair, much the way the king had in his last moments. 

Arthur’s voice is the last thing he hears before he tumbles into the dark and he dreams of gold grains of star-like sand and how warm it feels in his hand.

When Arthur had finally stopped fighting the all consuming darkness, not before he thanked Merlin for all his loyalty and friendship, he hadn’t expected he would wake again.

The darkness he had slipped into felt darker and deeper than just much needed sleep. It had been a forever kind of sleep, he was certain. 

But somewhere in the dark, he's suddenly aware that he isn't alone. However, it's the best kind of not alone. Warm. Safe. Protected. Wherever this is, he's happy here, basking in this glow.

The warmth of that safety only grows brighter. Brighter and brighter till he realizes he can see it suddenly, and he goes from searching for a glimmer in the distance to staring at the sun in the hottest summer. He just isn't sure how he’s gotten so close to the sun; it seems a mere arm’s length away from him. Perhaps Merlin-

Merlin! 

Arthur shields his eyes, looking through the light like trying to see an arrow shot skyward, and realizes he can make out the familiar outline of his dear friend. 

Merlin is made of fire it seems, eyes washed out to pure white-gold and his usually vibrant smile is twisted into a gritted snarl. His hands of fire are secured to Arthur’s armored forearm, seemingly anchored to him, so much so there are finger indents of holding on with an unfathomably strong grip.

Arthur’s mind is awash with fear for Merlin, wondering what has made this happen, at almost the exact moment he realizes he is no longer in pain. His wound is gone and Merlin is ablaze with what looks to be pure light.

Magic, his panicked mind reminds him. Merlin has magic. He remembers through the fear that he had been certain he was saying his goodbyes to Merlin before and now...

Has Merlin brought him back?

“Merlin? What have you done?” He whispers and as if the light had been waiting for it, the moment he speaks the light douses like water on a bonfire and Merlin pitches forward helplessly limp. Arthur just narrowly manages to get his arms around the young man’s waist before he ends up face first in the grass. He turns him over and Merlin’s eyes are glassily unfocused before flicking toward Arthur with a lax smile. A smile that fades as his eyes droop toward shutting.

Terror grips his lungs and he shakes Merlin, nearly shouting, “Merlin! Stay with me!”

The smile flutters briefly into view again and Merlin’s hand reaches up, clumsily stroking at Arthur’s hair. His lips move but no sound comes out and his eyes shutter closed in the next heartbeat.

“No! Merlin no!” Arthur shouts, but Merlin remains perfectly still and it’s all he can do to keep himself from crying in relief when he touches the man’s neck to find a strong racing pulse. “Oh, you fool... you’re still alive. Thank heavens.”

Arthur pulls him closer to his chest and just hugs him for a short while. For a terrible moment, he had been afraid Merlin traded his life for Arthur’s and the relief that he’s still alive is greater than any near miss he’s had over the years.

When he’s reassured himself that Merlin will yet continue breathing for a while longer, he forces himself to think about what comes next. He needs to make camp, Merlin especially will need the warmth of a fire, and sitting out in the open as they are will do them no favors. He glances around, looking for a sheltered place to move them to, and he notices that the area around them is damaged beyond anything he’s ever seen.

The ground aside from where they’re sitting is scorched black and cracked wide in spiderwebbed lines. Down at the lake, the water jumps and laps at the shore in steaming waves and the trees that dot the dip of the land are dead or snapped in half. It looks like a horde of dragons have been fighting here. He glances down at Merlin’s peaceful face and he feels a small chill on his skin because he knows that what he’s seeing is the result of powerful magic.

Part of him knows he should be terrified of this. The man he was before Merlin revealed himself would’ve snuck away from such a powerful magic user like a mouse avoiding a lion or worse yet he might've felt the need to kill someone this strong for fear of what they would do on the wrong side. 

But this is Merlin. His friend, his confidant, and now without a doubt, he has earned the title of savior. 

Arthur feels his eyes burn with emotion, exhaustion pushing him toward a breakdown. But he can’t do that now. He needs to shrug off the weight he’s carrying and shoulder the mantel he’s been bred to carry: soldier; King. 

He needs to push through for Merlin. That single thought makes it possible: for Merlin.

So Arthur hefts Merlin in his arms and carries him into the cover of the trees. He seems to weigh nothing at all, as though he burned his own existence away for the sake of Arthur’s.

Arthur props him up against a tree in a small clearing, and goes to gather wood to make a fire. His mind starts to think ahead and plan. He’ll need at least one of the horses. If they weren’t killed in the sphere of magic Merlin conjured, then they’ll have been scared off by it. He’ll need to look for signs of them. After that he’ll get Merlin back to Camelot as quickly as he can manage. Hopefully the idiot wakes before then and recovers. But Arthur knows so little about magic he can’t be sure of the cost Merlin will have to pay.

The fire crackles hot as the sun sets, bringing with it a chill.

Merlin is still unconscious, but breathing. His cheeks grow ruddy in the heat of the fire, but his fingers are cold. Arthur pulls Merlin to him and cradles him on all sides: arms wrapped across his chest, legs bracketing Merlin’s. He pulls his cloak over both of them and holds on tight.

As he watches the flames flicker he’s brought back to the glowing light in Merlin’s eyes, the midday-sun brightness pouring out of him. Arthur goes back further, to the feel of being held within that glow and being surrounded by safety and… love. It had been love he’d sensed. Things there in that place between had been different, and yet clear. Merlin had taken Arthur into his hands and coaxed him back to life with magic and love.

How long has Merlin loved him? He wonders.

“Oh Merlin,” Arthur says quietly against the man’s cheek. “You’ve kept so many things from me. And worst, it was my fault.” He presses his face to Merlin’s cheek and breathes deeply. He’s overwhelmed, and knows he should wait to decide on his feelings, and not make rash choices. But he loves Merlin, he knows that now. It’s not a decision, it’s a simple fact. Arthur likes to think himself a good man, a hero, but throwing himself into danger to save Merlin time and again is so telling now with that knowledge.

He keeps watch as the night wears on, slipping away to add more fuel to the fire and then returning to hold Merlin close and wrap him up in warmth again.

Sleep comes for him, but he doesn’t dare. Instead his mind is aglow with memories of Merlin. He finds himself smiling at jokes they’ve shared, or pulling Merlin tighter to him when he thinks of the close calls. Over the years, the confusing looks Merlin has made mostly make sense now: shrouded jealousy, sometimes fear, sometimes longing. Arthur had been too blind to understand.

He checks Merlin’s heartbeat regularly. It’s pulsing strong through his veins, and his breathing is deep and even. Yet Arthur fears. He fears the loss of something he barely had a grasp on before it’s been taken from him.

He stokes the fire one last time as dawn approaches, and finally sleep grabs hold of him and will not let go; his eyelids grow heavy, and even the need to protect Merlin does nothing to fight off the rest he requires.

Merlin wakes to the tickle of sleep-warm air against the curve of his neck and the accompaniment of loose arms around his chest. His brain tries to circle back to who and how but he can’t recall a great much of anything except being sore and tired. There was something very important he thinks, something about light and…

“Merlin?” It’s Arthur’s voice in his ear and in a whirlwind rush, memory falls atop him with the weight of a boulder. Arthur’s last words, the choice to do something impossible, the restarting of a still heart. He did it, Arthur is alive and whole it seems. But how? He doesn’t remember how.

Merlin tries to sit up, he wants to actually see Arthur to reassure himself that everything is truly all right but Arthur’s arms bind him tight and he doesn’t have the strength to free himself.

“Easy, Merlin, easy. Take it slowly.” Arthur pleads gently, his hands guiding and light as he helps Merlin find an upright place. “How do you feel? Is there… do you need anything?”

“Is it really you Arthur?” Merlin asks softly. “Please, I need to see you. Are you alright?” He pushes against the arms holding him again.

“Slowly Merlin!” Arthur chides. “Why can’t you ever listen?”

“Please?” Merlin pleads.

Arthur’s hold loosens. “Slowly,” he says again.

Merlin sits up fully and turns. He’s sitting between Arthur’s legs, wrapped up under Arthur’s cloak. And Arthur looks fine, as though his life was never held precariously in the balance, as though it had never tipped over the far edge and fallen into the abyss for Merlin to pull back.

“You ask if I’m alright,” Arthur says with a frown, shaking his head. “When you’re the one who’s been asleep for the better part of a day.”

“You’re alright,” Merlin says, reaching out and putting his fingers to Arthur’s cheek. He opens his mouth to speak again.

“No Merlin,” Arthur says firmly, but he doesn’t move to take Merlin’s hand from his cheek. “You’ll listen this time. Hold your tongue and listen for once!”

“But I-”

“Your king commands it,” Arthur says solemnly.

Merlin smiles and almost lets out a laugh, but he still feels a little weak and chokes it back. He lets his hand fall back to his lap, but doesn’t move away. He wants to be close, to see Arthur breathe and move and live.

“You saved me,” Arthur says softly. “I don’t know exactly how you did it, but I know I was dying and you brought me back.” There’s awe in his wide blue eyes. Awe and naked emotion, all of his layers of careful pomp and circumstance removed for Merlin. And he doesn’t look away in the manner of someone ashamed or uncomfortable. “And when you did, I felt it. You love me.” It’s spoken as a fact, no doubt in Arthur’s voice.

Merlin’s mouth falls open and he wants to refute it so things can go back to the way that they were. He couldn’t stand the thought of Arthur looking on him with pity like a poor sad lovelorn fool.

But Arthur keeps speaking. “And I don’t know how long you’ve loved me…” He trails off, his eyes welling up with a little emotion.

Merlin wants to say: In some ways I’ve always loved you. But he holds his tongue.

“But we’ve kept too many secrets between us for too long, Merlin,” he says. There’s pain in his voice, and regret. “I thought I knew you.”

“You do,” Merlin finally finds his words. “Oh but you do Arthur. Please believe me.” He grasps one of Arthur’s wrists, and pulls. Much to his surprise, Arthur gives easily and moves closer to him. Merlin can feel the warmth closing around him, and Arthur’s free arm comes to rest on Merlin’s shoulder. “You know me better than anyone,” Merlin continues.

“How can that be true?” Arthur asks sadly. “If you’ve kept such a part of yourself from me?” He shakes his head. “I understand why. I know why you did. And we can’t go back and change that.”

Merlin interrupts and summons all the courage in his feeble, weakened body. “Such a part of myself? Do you mean the magic or…” He doesn’t finish, more afraid of his love for Arthur than what his magic might mean for them now. In the last few days of his life Arthur had seemed to understand the magic, and accept it as a tool of good in Merlin’s hands.

“Are you so daft?” Arthur asks with a smile and shakes his head. “You won’t even say it? That you love me? Are you afraid of what I’ll think or say? When you were tearing apart the world for me, you couldn’t sense my love for you too?”

Merlin’s heart tries to stop. “You… I… wait. Tearing apart the world?”

Arthur smiles kindly. “Well, not the whole world,” he says. “Come on. I’ll show you.” He stands, pulling Merlin with him.

Merlin’s knees tremble and threaten to give way, but not because he’s weak and tired. Arthur is holding him, and has just told him he loves him in return. Merlin’s whole world has changed in a few words and he’s not entirely sure how to react.

Merlin is so entirely focused on Arthur’s arm around his ribs, holding him up, and the fact that Arthur is alive and breathing and warm against him that he doesn’t notice the burnt trees and rent earth. Merlin only has eyes for Arthur’s messy blond hair and bright blue eyes.

“All of this,” Arthur says looking outward. “All of this for me?” He looks back at Merlin.

Merlin shifts his gaze out over the clearing by the lake, shocked and horrified by the damage. It looks like something the dragon would have done. The damage is terrifying. Merlin crumples then, his knees giving way as he’s overtaken with the horrible power that lives inside him.

Arthur catches him of course, and they slump to the dead, burned ground together. Arthur gathers Merlin close in his arms and holds him tight.

“I did this?” Merlin asks.

He remembers the rush of power like a distant dream, haunting but present, and it fills him with dread as it sinks in. He broke a resolute rule of fate: all men must die. He changed it because he refused to accept it, and yet he doesn’t know how he accomplished it. Many have died before him and he was helplessly unable to stop it then but now… he holds possibilities within reach that should never have been his at all.

This power is inconceivably more than he thought it could ever be and that makes him dangerous. Dangerous to the world but especially to Arthur.

He tries to back away from Arthur’s grasp, to untangle himself with fearful apologies on his lips, but his king holds fast to him.

“It’s alright, Merlin. It’s alright.”

“No Arthur! Can’t you see that nothing about this is alright!?” Merlin nearly shouts and wriggles away, scrambling back with effort, leaving Arthur looking a little hurt. “I didn’t have any control of myself!” He gestures at the charred ruins of earth around them. 

But Arthur is ever the level headed tactician and seems to be of no mind to let Merlin blame himself. “The circumstances were dire. It’s forgivable.”

Merlin puts his head in hands, shaking. “Arthur, magic cannot be allowed to run rampant. What if the next time I set fire to Camelot? What if I can’t tell friend from enemy? If I lose myself like Morgana did...? I cannot stay and risk-!”

“Enough!” Arthur commands and Merlin looks up as Arthur comes closer, his hands out in a gesture of peace and his tone softens. “That’s enough Merlin.”

Merlin doesn’t attempt to move away again but he balks when Arthur pulls his hands into his grasp. It feels painfully wrong to allow his king to hold them knowing what they have done but the open plea in Arthur’s eyes is enough to make him listen.

“Merlin… you could never be what Morgana became. You said it before: Some men are born to great deeds and you were born to serve. Morgana only thought of what was hers and what more she could take for her own. Her life was ruled by hatred and bent on revenge. You have only ever been by my side as my friend and, now I know, my protector. You have lived a life dictated by kindness and love. I told you before, I want you to always be you. Don’t punish yourself for your gift. Don’t take yourself away from me now that we can finally see ourselves as we are.”

The words are like a swift arrow through his heart, and the naked declaration Arthur is laying before him is more than he ever dreamed was possible for them.

“Arthur.” Merlin whispers, his voice near to prayer-like reverence as all his fear suddenly seems to be washed away with his king’s complete acceptance. More than just his king now he sees, Arthur is his future. He hears the dragon's voice echo in his head: "Two sides of the same coin."

“Now that we’ve settled that,” Arthur says with a small curl of a smile. “Come back to the fire and rest a bit more. We'll be busy when we return and I’m still so very tired.” 

Slowly, the king stands and offers his arm, pulling Merlin to his feet and wrapping an arm around his waist, for support certainly, but it feels like a great deal more. Arthur seems to feel it too, because between a few blinks, he leans in toward Merlin and there’s no will in the warlock to resist the pull he feels. Soft dry lips land on his and even though it is a chaste thing, no pressure or demand in it, it leaves him gasping.

A pleased hum escapes Arthur’s lips to make a home against his and Merlin opens to him, welcoming more. As thorough and decisive as he is in battle, Arthur meets the invitation and it unleashes a desperation between them neither could’ve known was waiting. Like ripples across water, the kiss grows and sweeps steadily into them. Merlin can only speak for himself but it leaves his heart pounding and senses buzzing not unlike the zing of magic. It’s a different kind of magic but it feels mysteriously inviting in ways he’s never experienced with anyone. When they part to breathe, he’s already hungering for more.

“Tell me you’ll stay.” Arthur says gently, eyes bright and soft as he strokes Merlin’s cheek with a tenderness he’s rarely seen in the man. “I cannot bear the thought that you might leave while I sleep, on some hare-brained plan of protecting me.”

Merlin can’t help there’s a fluttering of guilt in the pit of his gut for knowing he doesn’t want to leave. That makes him selfish but the idea that there could be room for him beside Arthur, that his future is broader than just the role of servant is one he cannot leave behind. His heart long ago picked who it was sworn to but he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t tease his king just a little bit.

“Does my king command it?”

Arthur sighs and with a good natured roll of his eyes he tugs Merlin back to the campfire, “I’d say yes but you rarely do as I command anyway.”

“True.” Merlin laughs, squawking indignantly when he’s yanked down into Arthur’s lap. The honest laugh that shakes from Arthur is worth it and he makes himself comfortable in the man’s arms. For now, they’re alive and safe and free to just be.


End file.
